Life in 221B Baker Street
by ifonlyifonlythewoodpeckersighs
Summary: A series of Sherlock one-shots, mostly going to be fluff. Different relationships for different stories. Warning for slash and smut. Please review! Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, BBC and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle do.
1. Chapter 1

"Have you ever had anyone?"

"Sorry?"

"And when I say had, I'm being indelicate."

"I don't understand."

"I'll be delicate, then. Let's have dinner."

"Why?"

"You might be hungry."

"I'm not."

"Good."

"Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?"

"Ah, Mr. Holmes. If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"

Sherlock paused. He had never felt like this before. He had never hd any feelings of any kind toward anyone, but now that was changing. He was in love. His heart raced, and his mind was fuzzy. And all because of a woman. _The_ Woman. Sherlock looked her in the eyes.

"Yes."

AN: My future one-shots will not be this short, I promise. I just wanted to leave this one to the readers' imaginations. Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock and John had just returned from the bar for John's stag party, and were having drunken fun.

"Am I pretty?"

"Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood conceptions."

"Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?" Sherlock squinted at John, and scrunched up his face. His mind was fuzzy and the edges of reality were blurred. John stared expectantly at him, with his big, beautiful navy blue eyes. His short sandy hair was tousled, and he ran his tongue across his lower lip. He looked... delectible. Sherlock just wanted to pounce on him and tear him out of his jumper and make love to him right then and there. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that John was straight, and was about to get married to Mary. But a much louder voice spoke up and said he should take his chances. Drunk Sherlock agreed whole-heartedly with the louder voice, and he looked at John through the foggy haze. He smiled, and John looked at him strangely.

"Well, obviously."

"What?" Sherlock stood up, fell back down in his seat, and stood up again. He finally stumbled over to John and crushed his mouth against his. John was too surprised to do anything at first, but soon enough he moved his lips with Sherlock's. The detective's lips were warm and hungry against, and he tasted like beer and sweet strawberry wine. A warning bell rang in John's head, and he knew he should listen to it, but he chose to ignore it. He took Sherlock's disheveled, bouncy curls in his fists and pulled their bodies together, while he kissed him with vigor. Heat was rising in their bodies like boiling lava, increasing to impossible levels. John ripped Sherlock's shirt off of his body, and the detective grinned while he took John out of his jumper. He then took John out of his pants, and marveled at the doctor's throbbing erection. He licked his lips seductively, and took the whole of it in his mouth. John moaned and closed his eyes. Sherlock's perfect, beautiful wet mouth over his cock was the most electrifying thing he had ever experienced. The detective circled his tongue around the head and sucked, then licked all the way up his shaft. He ran a hand up John's thigh, sending a shiver down his spine. John knew he was close to his climax, but he didn't want to lose himself that easily. He held back as long as he could, all the while Sherlock smirking up at him with his cock in his mouth, doing incredible things with his tongue that made John groan and want more. He never wanted this moment to end. Finally he came, and Sherlock released his member and sat back, sniggering while he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. John looked at him for a moment, lust in his eyes, before he came back to himself. He gasped aloud, and covered his mouth. _What have I just done?_ He had just gotten a blow job from Sherlock, and he had enjoyed it. Very much, actually. He liked it far better than any he had gotten from Mary. _Mary!_ John sighed, and burried his face in his hands. _What on Earth am I going to tell her?_ When he looked through his fingers, Sherlock was face flat on the floor, snoring. John decided then that he would just pretend that he didn't remember tonight, and hopefully Sherlock wouldn't. He got up and left to take a shower, mentally kicking himself in the rear for being so stupid. But a part of his heart loved Sherlock, and craved more of him. He didn't know what he was going to do.


	3. Chapter 3

"Darn it, Sherlock!" John was furious. Sherlock had just ruined another relationship by decucing John's new girlfriend. He had said some things about her that would have been better left unsaid, and she stormed out of the flat, crying. The detective gave John an innocent look, and the doctor had to resist the urge to punch him in the face.

"Why are you blaming me, John? It's not my fault she walks around like-"

"No, stop it now! You just ruined another relationship!"

"More like I saved you from it. Oh, admit it. You never would have been dating her if you knew that she-"

"That's not the point, Sherlock! What she does in her spare time is her business. If I were her boyfriend, it might have been my business, but that doesn't make it yours."

"Yes it does. You're my business, John. If I weren't here, you would have been running around with-"

"You know what, I can't take this anymore. I'm done!" Johh threw his hands up in the air and tromped off to his room. Sherlock sat down on the sofa, and flinched as John slammed the door. He told himself that John shouldn't be mad, that he had done nothing wrong. He had helped him. Even though that might have been true, there was one thing Sherlock refused to admit. The reason he always ruined John's relationships is because he loved him, and he wanted to be with him himself. But the doctor was still clueless. Any idiot could have figured it out, but John was just ignorant to some things, the way Sherlock was about the solar system. He heaved a loud sigh and thrummed his fingers on the arm of the chair in irritation. He couldn't tell John he wanted to be with him, but he wouldn't let John be with anyone else. It was like being stuck in quick sand. No matter what he did, there was no easy way out, and he was drowning. If he did tell John the truth, there was no telling what would happen. Sherlock decided the worst thing he could do was reject him, and when he thought about it, that wasn't so bad. But it didn't make telling John any easier. The detective stood up and went to the fireplace, lifting up the skull and grabbing the package of cigarrettes. He went to his room and curled up in a ball on his bed while smoking three at the same time. John smelled the smoke from his room and almost immediately burst in on him, yelling.

"Sherlock, why are you smoking?!"

"Because I can. Do I need another reason?"

"No, Sherlock. Put them out now. You are not going to start again."

"Make me."

"Nope. You're going to do it yourself." Sherlock groaned, and crushed the cigarrettes under his foot on the carpet. He glared up at John, who rolled his eyes and started walking out of the room. Sherlock stood up, stopping him.

"John?"

"What is it, Sherlock?" The doctor looked at him impatiently while standing in the doorway. But then he really looked at Sherlock, and turned his body fully around to face him.

"I need to say something."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry." John gave him a puzzled look.

"Sorry? You mean for chasing off my girlfriend? Really, Sherlock, it's fine. I mean, you're right. If I had known that she-"

"No, not for that. I mean yes, but really, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry for everything." John gave him a confused smile.

"Alright, um, thanks." Sherlock sighed.

"That said, I should say something else, but I don't know how."

"Well, that's alright. You know you can tell me anything, Sherlock. You're my friend." Sherlock's heart pounded against his chest, and his pulse was erratic.

"John, I... love you." His face turned scarlet, and he pursed his lips as he waited for John to answer. The doctor opened his mouth and closed it again. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He let out a sigh, and looked up at the detective.

"I'm not gonna lie, I really don't know how to respond to that."

"I completely understand, John. I guess I'll just leave you to your thoughts." Sherlock left the room and John just looked around. He couldn't believe what just happened. Did Sherlock, Sherlock bloody Holmes, just tell him that he loved him? What the hell was he supposed to say to that?! John sat down on the bed and held his face in his hands. He thought about, well, everything, for a good while. And when he was done, he had a headache and one thought on his mind. He left Sherlock's room and found the detective, once again smoking, in the living room. When he heard John, he spat it out in a tea cup on the table beside him and smiled, before turning back around. John sat in his armchair across from him, and tapped his hands on the arm rests absently. Sherlock looked at him expectantly, and John opened and closed his mouth several times before he actually spoke.

"Sherlock, I... have been thinking... about what you said. For a while."

"Well, you've been in there for thirty minutes. I've smoked nine cigarrettes."

"Yes, anyway, I was thinking, am thinking, that... I... love you. Too." Sherlock smiled and walked over to John. He placed a light kiss on the doctor's lips before going to his room and locking the door behind him. John sat struck dumb for several minutes, before he said his thought aloud.

"What the fuck just happened?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Sherlock, why? Why would you do this to me?!" Sherlock had just burst in on John after being dead for two years, and the doctor was furious. They stood in the middle of the flat, and the detective was trying to calm John down.

"John, I'm sorry. But if I had told you, you could have told anyone."

"Oh, so this is my fault?!"

"Well-" Sherlock was cut off by John, who slapped him across the face. The detective stared down at the angry doctor in surprise. Not because he had slapped him, but because now Sherlock was hard. He opened his mouth to say something and John slapped him again.

"I don't want to hear it, Sherlock. I've had enough." He turned to walk away, but Sherlock stopped him.

"John, could you do that again?"

"Do what?"

"Slap me."

"Well, now you want me to? That's not fun." He still didn't notice he detective's boner, which was rubbing painfully against his pants and throbbing.

"Please, just hit me." John sighed.

"I can't believe I'm doing this." He reeled back his arm and threw his fist in Sherlock's face. The detective's head snapped back, and he moaned. John rolled his eyes, and then finally noticed Sherlock's erection. He looked up at him in confusion and shock, and then without meaning to he smiled. Sherlock grinned and punched the doctor, who immediately became hard, too. Sherlock grabbed his arm and pulled their bodies together, before crushing his mouth against his. Their tongues collided and danced, and John gripped the detective's arse, making him gasp and moan. The doctor grinned, and Sherlock placed his lips on his neck, roughly biting down and sucking. John locked one hand in Sherlock's disheveled, ebony curls, while the other hand gripped his neck. The detective lifted him up and wrapped his legs around his waist, before shoving his back against the wall. He pushed up against the doctor's erection, making him groan. Sherlock nipped at John's jawline before kissing a scorching trail down his throat. John closed his eyes and sighed, a small smile on his face. He didn't know he had felt like this about Sherlock before, but he knew how he felt now. He never wanted this moment to end. Sherlock groaned as he kissed John and held him against the wall. Electricity ran between them like uncontained charge, and heat rose in their bodies like a volcano about to erupt. John kissed all over his lover's...? face, with a surprising gentleness in contrast to what they were doing. Sherlock immediately simmered down, and pulled back to look at John's face. His eyes were crossed and dazed, and his cheeks were a light shade of red. He looked beautiful, and Sherlock smiled before placing a light kiss on his lips. He carried the doctor over to the couch and sat him down in his lap. He whispered softly in John's ear about unimportant, calming things until the doctor fell asleep. What had started out as angry arguing and fist-throwing, morphed into rough almost-love making, finally ended with cuddling on the sofa. The detective wrapped his arms around him and held him close for the rest of the night.


End file.
